


Courage

by TrickyNicky (UrPalSoup)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Broken Bones, Character Death, F/F, Friendship/Love, Ghosts, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Memories, Metaphors, Perceived Supernatural Elements, Questions, Regret, Short Story, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrPalSoup/pseuds/TrickyNicky
Summary: I want a new brain, I want a new heartI'm sick of feeling, failing, and falling apartI want the courage to make a new start
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)





	Courage

She's been dead for a day. It's only been a day. It doesn't seem real, that she's gone now, doesn't seem _right_. Her body was on the news, broken and frozen amongst a sea of white, crimson staining the snow. Frost shimmered on her eyelashes, her glassy eyes too lifeless in the cool light, her lips purple and skin pale as Madonna lilies. There were so many things going on around her body, but my focus narrowed to her, to all that she is-- _no_ , that she was, that she could've been. She doesn't get to have any of that, now. She's gone forever. You can't come back from a shattered spine, after all, especially when your other bones have torn through your skin and have been bleeding out, lying in the snow for twelve-ish hours. There must've been so much blood when she first hit the ground, gushing out, a river of unending crimson spilling on and on. I can almost hear her bones snapping upon impact.  
Didn't anyone see her fall? Wasn't there a single soul that noticed, that tried to help? To stop her from jumping? But did she even jump? Did she slip on the ice, unable to get a grip on anything to save herself? She could've been pushed, but who would've pushed her? Did they even think about the possibilities before calling it a suicide? No. No, they couldn't of, because they probably didn't think anything else could've happened. But something must've, because she never would've jumped off herself. She was too strong for that, even after what had happened at the house. If there's one thing Birdie is... _was_...it's stronger than anyone could comprehend.

_When Olivia turns sixteen, her best friend gives her a gift she'll never forget._

She's been dead for week. It feels like it's been months, but it's only been a week. At least, that's what the calendar says. It's hard to believe it's been just a single week since she took that fatal fall. Sometimes, there'll be a lull in the day, and it feels like she's there. Watching. Waiting, almost. But what could she be waiting for? There's nothing that can be done now. She's gone. There isn't anything I can do to fix that. Does she want something? Does she... _need_ something? But what? What could it possibly be? It's a riddle, just like her words, always so confusing. At times, it almost felt like even she didn't know what she was talking about. None of it makes any sense. When it comes to Birdie, though, things have never really made too much sense, I suppose.  
Her dad isn't home. I went to go visit him, figured that having someone around who feels the same might help with the grief. But when I got there, the apartment door was unlocked, and everything looked about the same as the last time I came over, save for him. He's completely disappeared. It's like he was never there at all. He didn't show up for her memorial or anything, either--but her aunt did. She _absolutely_ hated her aunt. Why did her aunt even come? Did she do something to her? Does she know something? She has to. Her aunt knows how much Birdie hated her. Just about everybody knows how much Birdie hated her, after all. She was never subtle about that sort of thing. So why? Why would she show? It's not like she even loved Birdie, anyways. That woman is too obsessed with herself to ever love anyone else. It just doesn't make any sense.

_Olivia can't forget it because she treasures that gift. It's her most prized memory._

It's been a couple of months since she passed, now, and the feeling that she's here still hasn't faded. In fact, it's only gotten stronger. It's almost like she's following me--or maybe just watching over me, keeping me safe. That sounds like Birdie. Whenever Neil is around me, the air feels thick enough I could cut it with a knife, which is sort of to be expected. I think he believes I hate him, for what he did. I don't. He didn't kill her; he never even left the house after she ran off. Birdie and Neil have never gotten along. I never did understand why Neil seemed to be so distrustful of her--she didn't do anything wrong. Sure, he's always been sort of protective of the three of us, but usually he doesn't really care when it comes to our friends. I think Birdie hated Neil because she felt he deserved it, had _earned_ it, because he was so spiteful of her. She always said how people earned things--you didn't have to earn happiness, though, she'd say, because happiness is something everyone deserves.  
"Olivia," she'd say, "everyone deserves a second chance, y'know? But that doesn't mean that everyone gets that chance. Sometimes, you die, and when you die, you can't come back. Death is the end. It's what your life leads to, those last bitter moments; the crux of a story, an ultimatum." She never explained why she'd said that, though. One night, she'd just started rambling, and then that came out. It seemed sudden, at the time, but looking back now it sort of makes sense, I guess. Birdie always seemed to talk about death like it was something that was good, almost, but now she's dead. Nothing good has come of that. What did she mean? What was she trying to tell me? I suppose I'll never know now. It's too late. You can't get answers from the dead, after all. 

_Olivia would lie awake at night, sometimes, and think of that moment. Now, she thinks about it and wonders what could've been._

"Time is a cruel thing, Oli," she said one day. We were walking to school together, as we always did. "It's always marching onward. It doesn't matter if one of us dies today, because the world will keep on turning. The world doesn't care. Never has, never will." She was probably thinking about her mom. She usually gets cynical whenever she does. Maybe that's how she felt when her mom died, that no one seemed to care that such an important person to her was dead. After that, something seemed to change in her. She got a bit more quiet, a bit more antsy. It was always sort of hard to tell if she'd really changed, though, because she'd always been that way. Sometimes, she'd stare off into space until her eyes started watering, tears racing down her cheeks. Or maybe she was just crying, unable to keep herself together because her thoughts were just too loud to ignore.  
She's here with me, at night. She hums, she sings, sometimes she talks. The things she says don't make sense, but not like how they used to; it comes out all garbled, as though she's underwater. She can't really be here, obviously, because she's dead. Unless she's not dead. She could be living inside of my head. That doesn't make sense, either, though. That's impossible. Birdie would probably say that it is, in fact, possible, because our minds are always screaming, always reminding us of the things and people we've lost in life. "That's just part of being human," I can still hear her saying. "It's how we all live our lives. We slowly go crazy as the grief takes over, until finally, we either can't take it anymore, or we get lucky and finish the process on our death day."

_Olivia sobs until she falls asleep, wishing she could go back to her sixteenth birthday, to her favorite moment._

"I'm sorry," he'd said. He'd walked up to me during the funeral, said that, and then he left. He didn't just walk away, no, he _left_. He didn't look back, either, just kept on walking to where everyone parked until I couldn't see him anymore. He didn't know it would happen, though. He couldn't of. He was just...too hateful of her. He got blinded by it, I think. And now she's gone. It's easy to see he regrets how he treated her. He seems to choose his words even more carefully than he used to, and when he does he doesn't make any jokes anymore, doesn't tease any of us. He's the oldest of us, so he's always teased us about stupid things. None of us have ever minded, it's all in good fun. He didn't tease Birdie, though. I think he can't tell the difference.  
Neil is a good guy. He always has been. He's just a dick, a lot of the time. I don't think he intends to be, that's just how he comes across. He's sort of a know-it-all, and maybe that's part of why she hated him, too. "Know-it-alls don't actually know much of anything. They just like to think that they do," she'd told Jasper and I one day, when the three of us were hanging out. Birdie knew lots of things, like how to survive in the city and get people to do favors for you, but mostly she knew about rocks. She could name all sorts of gemstones, could recognize what a fossil was even before it'd been dusted off, had memorized all of the names and types of rocks, how to recognize what was what and which was which. One time, after I'd pestered her about why she seemed to love archaeology so much, she'd smiled and said, "My name might be Birdie, but I could never fly. I'd much rather stay here, on the ground, where I don't have to wonder if I'll fall and die." But she still fell and died, even though she was on the ground. Maybe that's why she'd smiled when she'd said it--because she knew. That sounds pretty stupid, actually, now that I'm thinking about it seriously. Birdie was always full of surprises, though--I wouldn't say it's too far-fetched for her.

_It was barely even a second, maybe hardly a millisecond, but it felt like time slowed to a crawl in that moment._

She's standing in front of me, and I must be dreaming, because this isn't real. It could never be real. She's gone and she's dead and she can't come back. No one can come back from that. Not her mom, not Dad, not a single person can ever come back from death. It's impossible. I must be going crazy, just as Birdie said we all do, so this must be my death day. I've gone fucking batshit, Birdie. I miss you so much. What do I do? I don't want to die, not particularly. But...if I die...would I see you again? Would you be there, waiting for me, arms open, that crooked grin on your face? You always had the cutest smile.  
You had dimples, which just made you that much cuter. But you were also always so...rugged, war-torn, almost. slouching forward as though the world was weighing you down, rather than because you wanted to. Your hair never seemed to want to do what you wanted it to, your clothes always had a couple of holes, the soles of your shoes worn through. It's no wonder you froze that night. Even if you hadn't died from the fall itself, you definitely would've died from the blood loss, and if you hadn't died from that, it would've been the freezing cold. You're dead. But you're also here, but not...quite, either. You look like you're underwater, a reflection of you staring at me, wavering and not quite there, but still there, just like your voice at night.

_Birdie had leaned forward, and everything went into slow motion as she pressed her lips to Olivia's cheek. Just a peck._

Bloody and broken. That's what you are now. I feel like I'm sixteen again, wondering if you had wanted to kiss me on the lips rather than the cheek. Wondering what would've happened if you had. I wish you had, Birdie. Maybe then we could've been happy, and none of this would've happened. Your bones are sticking out of your skin, your own blood cakes you. You look so defeated, which is something you should never be. But maybe that's because you're dead. You've reached your ultimatum.  
Is that what you've been waiting for? For me to reach mine? If I reach my ultimatum, if I get to the crux of my story, will you be there when it's all said and done? You have to promise me you'll be there, Birdie. I know how much you hate making promises, but I need you to promise me this one thing. That's it. I'll never ask again.

_Olivia pressed her hand to her cheek, and Birdie ran, just like she did on the night she died._

I wish I had your courage, Birdie. That'd make this so much easier to do. I wish we'd really kissed back then, instead of on the night you died. I wish I'd ran after you. I wish...I wish so many things had happened differently, but...they didn't. And none of it matters anymore. I'll get to be with you again. This is our ending, Birdie. Do you think it's a happy one? I do. So long as we're together, I'll always be happy--I hope you believe that, too. I can't go back from this, Bird. No one can. But it's going to be worth it if I get to really kiss you, just one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> I started listening to I Fight Dragons the week I wrote this, my introductory song to their music being A New Brain. The first time I listened to it, I didn't realize that it was about Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. After reading through the lyrics and listening to it on repeat, as I do with most songs I enjoy, I came to the realization that this song fits one of the star characters in this story, Olivia. Just a bit, though.  
> Originally, Olivia and Birdie's story was much happier, despite Birdie suffering the same fate she does here. But, of course, I can never let my OCs leave peacefully and happily for too long.  
> Some context, by the way: Olivia, Jasper, and Neil are all siblings. They have one other sibling named Hunter. Their family is pretty well-to-do. Birdie is an only child that lives with her dad. They're extremely poor, and her dad hasn't treated her very well since her mom passed away. Birdie hates her aunt because she thinks that her aunt killed her mom.


End file.
